Holed Up!
by Holstered .38
Summary: COMPLETE! McGee finds himself the victim in a hostage situation whilst suffering the effects of poisoning. Can Gibbs and the rest of the team free his agent and the other hostages before the toxin takes McGee's life? If you like this then please review!


**Holed Up!**

Prologue

Special Agent McGee entered the bullpen with a face like thunder, thumping his rucksack onto his desk and shattering Dinozzo's concentration.

"Yes! Another round to me!" whooped Ziva David.

"McGee!" Dinozzo chastised. "A few more seconds and I'd have won that round."

"In your dreams…" Ziva countered. "What's the matter, McGee?" she asked noticing his uncharacteristic demeanour.

McGee looked up at his two colleagues as they approached his desk following their staring competition. "I went to the ATM this morning to draw out some money, and the damn machine ate my card! I now have to go to my bank, fill out a stack of forms and take three sources of ID before they will let me take out any of my own money!"

"You know," Ziva commented. "Back in Israel, we never trusted banks."

"Where did you keep your money?" Tony asked curiously.

"Well, if I told you that… I'd have to kill you!" she countered provocatively.

The phone on Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs' desk rang distracting the trio from their conversation. None of them had heard their boss enter but as he answered the call, they sidled back to their own desks.

"Have you two finished playing games?" Gibbs asked when the call ended. The two agents had been competing in an office decathlon that had so far included arm wrestling, belching and tossing memos from the director into waste bin over increasing distances. At that moment, Ziva was now three – two up on a disgruntled Tony. Gibbs reached for his weapon from his desk drawer, loaded and holstered it in his belt. "Tony, gas the truck," he commanded and tossed Dinozzo the keys. The whole unit underwent a sudden transformation from kindergarten to efficient investigative team in a matter of seconds. "McGee, let Ducky know we are going to need him." Gibbs instructed the most junior agent on his team.

"What should I tell him?" McGee asked as he raised the phone to his ear ready to dial autopsy.

"A woman has been found dead on the naval base at Norfolk."

Chapter 1

The NCIS truck sirens' wail diminished to a moan before fading completely as the vehicle halted out front of the Procter residence. Gibbs alighted first and identified himself and his team to the marine guard posted at the front of the property. "Special Agents Gibbs, Dinozzo, David and McGee." He flashed his identification and federal badge at the sergeant. "Who discovered the body?"

"The next door neighbour. Seems they had made arrangements to go out today," the sergeant began then swallowed hard. "Sir, the doctor's with her now… It's not pretty in there."

"Dinozzo, go get a statement from the neighbour; Ziva laser and sketch; McGee bag and tag – okay, let's go!" Gibbs directed.

Inside the house was dark. Only the flickering of the television set in the lounge illuminated the prone outline of Mrs Procter. Her face still contorted from her agonising death. Ducky was crouched over the victim noting the temperature registering on the liver probe. "She's been dead approximately 15-17 hours. That puts time of death somewhere around 6-8pm yesterday evening," Ducky concluded.

"Cause of death, Duck?" Gibbs enquired hopefully.

"Good grief Jethro, I've barely met the deceased! I'll know more when I get her back to autopsy. I can say this, however, she suffered a very painful death…"

"Signs of a struggle?"

"Difficult to say. There are no defensive wounds, but it's obvious she thrashed around in this area."

Gibbs photographed the scene, paying particular attention to the positioning of the body, her hands and face and the immediate surrounding area.

"Err, boss," Tony called out as he entered the property. "Seems the neighbour – Kathleen Brewster and the victim had prior arrangements to go on a little shopping spree. Only when Megan Procter never showed to pick her up and wasn't answering the phone, Mrs Brewster decided to call around. According to her, the front door was closed but unlocked."

"Well there are scratch marks on the outside of the lock, it could have been picked," Ziva suggested.

"Or, Megan Procter could have let whoever killed her in." Gibbs countered.

"Or maybe they had a key…" Tony's suggestion caused the others to stop what they were doing and stare at his attempt at a less than subtle innuendo.

"OWW!" squealed McGee as he withdrew his right hand swiftly from the top drawer handle of the writing desk.

Everyone looked in McGee's direction as he stood shaking his right hand vigorously.

"What is it McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh…er, nothing boss, just a splinter."

"Aw, Probie," Tony mocked. "Did you want mummy to get the tweezers?"

The last comment earned Dinozzo a swift clip to the back of his head from Gibbs who had tolerated enough of Tony's childish behaviour for that day. "Get back to work, before I send a note home to _your_ mummy!" he scolded.

"On it boss," Tony apologised. "I'll check out the bedroom…"

"No surprise there then," muttered Ziva loud enough that Tony could hear but not so loud that Gibbs could.

McGee pulled off his latex gloves and looked at the small wooden fragment imbedded in his right forefinger. Carefully, he extracted the splinter and discarded it on the desktop, sucked the ballooning blood bubble from his fingertip. He gently dabbed the area dry again with his clean handkerchief prior to putting on a new pair of gloves to continue his search.

Back at NCIS headquarters, the team divided the evidence and went over their findings. McGee pulled up a photograph and history of Megan Procter on the large plasma screen in the office. "Megan Procter, age 34, married to Corporal Jason Procter who is currently serving in Afghanistan. She worked as a cashier at the Mutual Savings Bank of Virginia. The couple have been based at Norfolk since 2004."

"According to the neighbours," Tony added. "The couple were friendly and community minded – even organised a charity barbeque to raise money for some of the orphaned kids in Afghanistan, where Corporal Procter is on tour."

"Any threats of violence reported, or someone wanting to harm either member of this household?" Gibbs asked.

"No one in the pipeline boss," Tony responded.

"OK. Let's go see what Ducky can tell us about our victim's death."

McGee blinked and gently massaged his temples. It had been a hectic morning and now he was feeling the effects from the mere four hours sleep he'd gotten the night before. He downed two aspirin and caught up with the rest of the team; the pounding in his head matched only by the throbbing in his freshly band-aided finger.

Downstairs, in autopsy, Dr Ducky Mallard and his assistant Jimmy Palmer had already begun the post mortem examination.

"What have you got for us Duck?"

"Ahh Jethro, not much yet I'm afraid. The x-rays show no foreign bodies or bone breaks. I have sent blood and tissue samples to Abby for analysis."

"What's that blue colouration on her face and hands?" Gibbs asked as he perused the naked victim upon the stainless steel slab.

"Cyanosis; it's where the body is starved of oxygen. I once saw a case back in '82, or was it '83? No, I believe it was '82, where a young man had taken several hours to die…"

Gibbs interrupted Ducky's morbid reverie by asking "She suffocated?"

"Not as such. She wasn't smothered or strangled, but whatever pathogen, toxin or even condition she had had caused her lungs to fail, depriving the poor woman of oxygen, thus leading to her unfortunate demise."

Tony flinched involuntarily as he vividly remembered what it had felt like not to be able to breath when he had been the victim of a biological attack and had suffered from pneumonic plague. The infection had originated from a SWAK letter he'd opened, only instead of a love letter inside, it had contained a genetically cultured Y-pestis which had almost taken his life. He shuddered again as the thought remained fresh in his mind.

"Is it murder or natural causes?"

"I'll let you know when I have completed the post mortem Jethro! One thing though, our victim was approximately twelve weeks pregnant…"

Abby Sciuto was Gibbs' next port of call. Her forensics lab usually vibrated under the thunderous rock music that churned out of her stereo. Today however, soothing tones normally associated with yoga classes whispered subtly to all those who entered her laboratory. McGee blinked hard trying to force his eyes to focus on his new surroundings; his headache was turning into a migraine.

Abby noticed his discomfort almost immediately. "Hey Gibbs, have you come all this way to bring me a new 'Caf-Pow!'? What's up McGee? You don't look so good…"

Gibbs Tony and Ziva turned and looked at McGee as Abby walked over, her arms outstretched to give the young agent a hug.

"I'm okay, it's just a headache," he told them matter-of-factly even though he knew it was worsening.

"Abs, what've you found out?"

"Patience o'great one… The fingerprints were from three different people. The first set belonged to the victim – Megan Procter, numbers 2 and 3 are currently running through AFIS."

Abby double checked their progress. "No matches yet. DNA will also take another twelve hours," she informed them checking her clock.

"Anything else?" Gibbs wondered.

"As usual, your gut is telling you I have saved the best for last…"

"What is it Abs?"

"Megan Procter was poisoned!"

"You mean someone slipped her some arsenic or something?" Tony asked.

"You've been watching too many of those old 'whodunit' movies Tony," Abby mocked. "There are literally thousands of poisons out there, most of which can be obtained legally over the counter – bleach, aspirin, rat poison..."

"We get the picture," Gibbs interrupted.

"So you're telling us she died from consuming…what?"

"She didn't consume it. There was no evidence of the poison in her stomach contents or digestive tissues, only in her blood."

"She was injected? With what?"

"That's right! The poison entered her circulatory system intravenously. As for the poison itself, I'm still working on that. My baby had a meltdown. I've got a tech coming to fix it within the hour."

"Let me know what you find out." Gibbs called back over his shoulder as he left her lab. Tony and Ziva hot on his six.

McGee, on the other hand, waited behind. "Abby, do you have anything stronger than aspirin? This headache is killing me."

"You do look a little pale; you should go home and rest."

"I know, but we're in the middle of this case and…" McGee blinked hard as Abby momentarily drifted out of focus.

"What is it?" she asked concerned.

"Oh, nothing," he lied.

"Here, take two of these and go home!" Abby handed McGee a couple of pain-killers from a medicine pot on top of her chiller unit.

"Thanks Abby," he smiled half-heartedly. "I'll be fine." He kissed her tenderly on the cheek and left to catch up with everyone else. At the elevator he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a neatly pressed white handkerchief. McGee wiped the sweat from his brow and face muttering to himself 'Don't tell me that the air-con is on the fritz again…'

Gibbs was with the director in MTAC when McGee re-entered the bull pen, which allowed Tony the perfect opportunity to 'ragg' on him. "Glad you could join us, 'Probie'!"

"I was just seeing Abby about…something."

"Aha! I knew it! You and Abby have been…" Tony stopped mid-sentence. "Have you been working out?"

"Not especially, why?"

"'Cause you're sweating like a Swede in a sauna."

"Tony!" exclaimed Ziva. "Do you really have to be so graphic in your smilies?"

"It's similes Ziva, and yes, it allows me to fantasise…" Tony corrected. "So what have you been up to McGee?"

"I just assumed that the air-conditioning wasn't working again. I guess I must be coming down with the 'flu or something."

"You're sick?" questioned a surly voice from immediately behind McGee. It was Gibbs. He had this habit of sneaking up behind his colleagues when they least expected it.

"I'm okay boss. It's just a headache."

"Alright then, let's get some work done. Ziva, the director wants you up in MTAC."

"But what about the case?" she asked.

"Tony can carry your workload."

Tony's smug face fell fifteen storeys crashing into a crest fallen expression synonymous with a person winning the lottery then losing the ticket. "Ahh boss, can't McGee pick up the slack? I've got this really hot date tonight see and…"

Gibbs scowled at Dinozzo and took a single step forward. Tony retreated in defeat. "Why don't I run through Ziva's investigation notes?" he conceded.

"Good idea Dinozzo!" commented Gibbs sarcastically.

"Boss," McGee interrupted. "I ran through Megan Procter's phone records. She dialled one number over twenty times in the past thirty-six hours."

"Are you waiting for me to ask?" Gibbs queried testily.

McGee tapped away at his computer and retrieved the billing information, only he couldn't focus his eyes to read the details.

"McGee?!" snapped Gibbs.

"Sorry boss," McGee apologised. "It's just that this headache is affecting my vision."

"Right then, you're going home. Tony, catch," Gibbs tossed Dinozzo the keys to the sedan. "Take McGee home."

"But boss…" McGee objected.

"You're no good to me if you are distracted. Now, Tony will take you home and I want you to get some rest before tomorrow."

"Yes boss…Sorry boss."

"And stop apologising. I've told you before, it's a sign of weakness."

McGee gathered together his coat and rucksack and followed Tony to the elevator. Gibbs sat at his computer and gazed around the bull pen, each desk vacant and quiet.

McGee got out his handkerchief again and wiped the perspiration from his face. Tony noticed the action. "You alright McGee?"

"What? Ohh yeah, I guess it's just a bit warm in here. Say Tony, can you drop me off at the bank?"

"Gibbs said to take you home…"

"I know, and I promise I'll go straight home afterwards. It's only half a block from my apartment and I need to sort out this business with my bank ATM card – please Tony…"

Tony thought for a moment before agreeing. "Thanks." McGee responded gratefully.

"Yeah, well make it quick. I'll wait outside."

Gibbs was going through the statements and field case reports. Megan Procter had been making a number of calls to a phone in Fairfax, Virginia. He dialled the number and waited for someone to answer. The answer machine message was not what he had expected. He hung up without saying a word. He gazed at the telephone for a few moments in silence.

"Who was it?" Ziva asked from just behind her boss. She had stealthily entered the bull pen and was now stood directly behind Gibbs.

"Who was what?" he asked still stunned.

"On the phone…" Ziva clarified.

"Sergeant Scott Brewster!"

Gibbs cell rang, it was Abby. "I think I've got something you need to see…Ducky is on his way up too."

"Okay Abs, we're on our way."

Gibbs could tell that Abby was desperate to share her recently obtained knowledge as she was bouncing around like a child who had been eating sugary food and drink all day and was now desperate to share a special secret with someone.

"What is it Abs?" Gibbs asked as soon as he and Ziva entered the lab.

"I've got good news and bad news, which do you want first?"

"I'm not in the mood for games!" Gibbs retorted.

"The good news is that I have managed to identify what killed Megan Procter…" Abby paused for dramatic effect. "It was snake venom!"

"She was bitten by a snake?" Gibbs asked looking from Abby to Ducky and back again.

"Not exactly," Ducky corrected. "I found a small wound on her left hand made by a knife or some other sharp object. The toxins appear to have been administered through that wound as the venom concentration level was found to be significantly greater in that specific area."

"Is that what killed her?"

"Yes. The protein markers for this particular venom seem to indicate a neuro-toxin." Ducky explained. "Jethro, she suffered immense pain as the toxin attacked her central nervous system. I remember a young girl in Namibia being bitten by a Boomslang. Unfortunately, there was no anti-venin available and she died within thirty-six hours of being bitten."

Gibbs suddenly flashed back to earlier that morning as McGee yelled out when he was stuck by the splinter. "Ducky, what symptoms would she have suffered?"

"A throbbing of the initial wound site, headache, blurred vision, dizziness, sweating, nausea and vomiting leading to paralysis, breathing difficulty progressing to complete respiratory failure and death."

"Duck, notify Bethesda, we need some of that anti-venom! McGee has been infected!"

"Whoa Gibbs," Abby called out. "You can't just order anti-venin off the shelf. You need to know what type of snake this poison comes from."

"Abby is correct, Jethro. Without the specific protein ratio, treatment is impossible."

"Can't you do that from the blood sample?" Ziva asked.

"I'm afraid not. Once it has entered the bloodstream the chemical reactions that take place alter the normal clotting process leaving behind a soup of human and snake proteins that make venom identification impossible. No, we need something that will identify the original toxin."

"The splinter!" Ziva and Gibbs shouted in unison.

Chapter 2

Tony parked the sedan across the street from the bank and watched as McGee made his way through the midday traffic and enter the flagstone building. His mind drifted from then on as he noticed two exceedingly beautiful young women watching him from the coffee house window adjacent to his position. He winked at them, which sent the pair of them into a fit of coy giggles. Tony exited his car and perched himself on the hood, still trying to impress the two women with his stunning smile and tailored physique, when he noticed an odd reflection in the coffee shop window. What he saw made him feel like a Baltimore cop once again. Three men in Halloween masks got out of a green explorer 4x4 and entered the bank carrying automatic and semi-automatic weapons. A fourth man sat alone ready to make a swift getaway. Tony flipped open his cell-phone and dialled 911. "This is federal agent Anthony Dinozzo. There's an armed robbery in progress at the Mutual Savings Bank on 23rd and Vine. Three heavily armed suspects are inside together with several civilians including a non-uniformed federal agent. Officers require further assistance!" Tony flipped shut his cell after relating as much information as he could. He crossed over the street casually whilst maintaining a clear visual on the fourth member of the armed robbery gang.

Inside the bank, McGee was discussing his earlier financial problems with Charlotte Reed, one of the bank's customer relations advisors, when the armed robbers made their move. The security guard at the entrance received a sideswipe from the first masked man before he had chance to draw his weapon. The junior guard fell to the floor unconscious. The elder and more senior guard surrendered his weapon when faced with the circular barrel end of one of the automatic weapons held by another of the bank's aggressors. The third member of the gang corralled all the customers and bank staff to the far end of the bank foyer, making them all sit along the faux wood panelling in single file. McGee knew he had to hide his weapon from the robbers, but where? His head hurt more than ever and the pain killers he had taken earlier were beginning to wear off. Surreptitiously, he wedged his holster and Sig Sour behind the cushioned seating along the adjacent wall. Charlotte noticed his action and looked at him quizzically. McGee indicated subtly that she should say nothing so as not to alert their captors. She complied with his discreet request.

The lead robber, whose mask was straight out of the movie 'Scream', instructed one of the female cashiers to empty all of the teller's tills into a large sports holdall. The remaining two armed bandits, one in a scary clown mask, the other a skeletal skull, stood guard, their weapons trained continuously along the line of terrified hostages.

The clown instructed the hostages to hand over their wallets, purses and cell phones. McGee could feel the sweat gather heavily across his face, his fever was getting worse and he was beginning to feel dizzy and nauseous. He knew now that whatever he had contracted wasn't good and he was in a life and death battle without being in any position to do a damn thing about it.

Outside, Tony was rounding on the getaway driver when he heard the sound of sirens approaching. The driver, too, heard the cavalry and decided that his best move would be to warn his buddies by blasting on the horn. The warning came too late however, two police cars rounded the junction to the north and three approached from the south cornering the getaway vehicle. Tony drew his weapon. "Federal Agent! Hands in the air!" he instructed dominantly.

The driver gunned the accelerator and barrelled the light green Chevy towards the oncoming police cars. Tony aimed and fired three rounds. The rear window shattered as the first bullet reached its mark. The Chevy careened across the street finally coming to an abrupt halt after violently striking a streetlamp. The driver slumped forward against the steering wheel. The continuous blare of the horn harshly shattered the day-to-day drone of people living their everyday lives.

Tony's cell rang. "Dinozzo," he answered simply.

"Where's McGee, Dinozzo? He's not at home and he's not answering his cell." Gibbs fumed.

"Er, it's kind of a long story boss, but the really short version is he's in a bank that is currently under siege by three armed robbers…"

"Where?" Gibbs' anger transforming to concern.

"Mutual Savings, on 23rd and Vine." Tony had barely got his words out when the connection was severed. 'Damn it Dinozzo; why is it you always have to screw up?' he muttered to himself.

The armed robbers heard the gun shots followed by the commotion outside and realised that their situation had changed for the worse. 'Scream' instructed the cashier to rejoin the other hostages whilst he tried to figure out what to do next and retain his sense of authority both over his accomplices and the dozen hostages he had imprisoned during the raid. McGee had noticeably begun to perspire profusely.

"Are you alright?" Charlotte asked. McGee clenched his stomach in an attempt to wave off the nausea that was building inside. He loosened his tie and undid the top collar button of his pale blue shirt. It wasn't just a migraine he was experiencing, but he still had no inclination as to what was really ailing him, or how 'deadly' serious his condition was.

Without warning Charlotte spoke out to their captor. "Excuse me," her voice wavering slightly. "This man is sick, he needs a doctor."

"He's not going anywhere; neither are any of you, so sit down and shut up!" 'Clown' answered back brusquely.

"Miss Read," McGee sighed through another bout of queasiness. "I'm fine, it's okay. Please don't antagonise any of them; I have a colleague outside who is doing everything possible to get us all out of here safely…"

"It's not okay," she whispered back. "Look at you! You've got a fever, and you are as pale as my grandmother was when they told her she had won a skydiving holiday!"

"Your grandmother won a skydiving holiday?" McGee asked in awe.

"Yup, and she's eighty-nine next week!" McGee chuckled until the throbbing in his head overtook his sense of humour. "It's okay," Charlotte soothed as she took the damp handkerchief from McGee's hand and mopped his fevered brow. The muscles around his right eye were spasming uncontrollably. "Are you winking at me Mr McGee?" she smiled flirtatiously.

"Please call me Tim," McGee responded.

"Charlotte," she countered.

Tony checked the pulse of the crashed driver. He was dead. Sirens loomed in the distance signifying the approach of the local law enforcement.

Within ten minutes the entire street was cordoned off. Patrol cars littered the surrounding streets and uniformed officers were evacuating all the civilians in the immediate vicinity. Tony answered his cell after just two rings. "Dinozzo."

Gibbs was driving whilst he spoke. "What's the situation at the bank?"

"Local LEO's have sealed the area and S.W.A.T.'s on the way."

"The wheel man?"

"Didn't make it," Tony replied.

"Take his prints and photograph and send them to Abby. Maybe we can identify who we are dealing with."

"On it boss," but Tony was talking to a 'dead' phone. Gibbs had already hung up.

Tony inked the driver's fingers and carefully printed each digit of his right hand onto a fingerprint record card, then photographed his blood streaked face before sending his evidence electronically via the com-link in his vehicle. He heard the screech of tyres skidding to a halt and knew Gibbs was now at the scene.

"Boss," Tony greeted his superior when Gibbs approached. "A command post has just been set up in the café opposite the bank."

"Mmm, coffee any good?" Gibbs asked with some cynicism.

"I-I'm not sure," Tony stammered with a hint of uncertainty.

Gibbs smirked at Dinozzo's discomfort as the two NCIS agents made their way to the café.

"Who's in charge?" Gibbs enquired of the first uniformed officer he came to. The officer turned and pointed to a tall semi-balding man in a crumpled grey suit. The tired expression and five o'clock shadow only added to his downtrodden, off-the-streets look.

"Who are you?" he asked in a gruff voice that sounded like he'd been gargling with razor blades.

"Special Agents Gibbs and Dinozzo, NCIS." Gibbs showed the detective his ID.

"What does the navy want this far inland?"

"Detective?" Gibbs queried not answering his question straight away.

"Lieutenant Gordon, and I'll ask once more, what do navy cops want with an armed robbery in a bank?"

"Lieutenant, one of my team is inside that bank and, if he doesn't get to a hospital soon, he could die!"

"Well my job is to see that no-one dies and that the scum that are holding the bank staff and other civilians are apprehended."

"Have you made contact with the suspects yet?" Gibbs asked.

"Just about to." A police technician handed the lieutenant a telephone equipped with instant recording facilities. The idea was to capture all conversations made between the negotiators and the bank's occupants for evidence purposes, to assist in the DA's prosecution.

The captured line rang directly through to the bank. 'Scream' aimed his weapon indiscriminately at the hostages. "I don't want any heroes, understand?" It rang almost a dozen times before he picked up the cream coloured handset and listened to the authoritative voice on the other end.

"This is Lieutenant Gordon. We have the place surrounded. You cannot escape so throw out your weapons and come out with your hands in the air."

Gibbs couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Where did this guy learn his negotiation and hostage release techniques…spaghetti westerns?!"

Gordon heard Gibbs' remark but chose to ignore it completely, for the time being.

"No way!" exclaimed 'Scream'. "We've got half a dozen bank employees and four members of the public in here. There is no way we are _just_ going to hand over our weapons and give ourselves up…we've got too much to lose…" The line went dead as 'Scream' hung up on the lieutenant.

"What're you gonna do now?" Gibbs asked of Gordon. "Send out for pizza?"

"Hell no, Gibbs. We've got all the coffee and donuts we can eat right here! Besides, I've got marksmen in key positions ready to take out those bastards on my command."

"Never mind who gets in your way, ehh? What if there's a hostage between you and the media glory?" Gibbs spat.

"I resent your implications, but if it came to it, it would be a regrettable but acceptable loss…"

"Well it's not acceptable to me, and I'm sure as hell not going to stand around here while you get innocent people shot, or worse…" Gibbs strode out of the café with Dinozzo only a pace or two behind. "Dinozzo, see if Abby can hook up to the bank's security system. I want to know who and what we are dealing with!"

Abby took a couple of large draws on her 'Caf-Pow!' straw finishing off her third carton of liquid caffeine with a loud slurping finale. Her mind totally focused upon the toxicity results for Megan Procter. She had been testing all morning trying to identify the breed of snake that had caused the victims' untimely demise, so that the correct anti-venin could be on hand for McGee. The problem was that not only does the protein ratio differ from species to species, but it could also vary from snake to snake too. It felt like an impossible task. All she knew, from Ducky's physical analysis of the body, was that she was looking for a neuro-toxin not a haemo-toxin. The haemo-toxin would have caused major bleeding all over the body as the venom broke down the blood vessels and arteries allowing the victim to literally bleed to death from within. However, the neuro-toxin was not a pleasant way to die either. Symptoms may not present themselves for a couple of hours, but when they do, they progress rapidly. The neuro-toxins interfere with the transmission of electric pulses sent by the brain that control our physical movement. The venom, if left untreated, would eventually paralyse the victim and lead to respiratory failure and death.

Abby tested her sample against many native and exotic breeds including Rattlesnake, Taipan and Eastern Green Mamba. None, so far, had matched or even come close. Abby was beginning to feel frustrated and disheartened, but her stubbornness and concern for her friend kept her motivated.

McGee's shirt was now saturated with perspiration and his right hand was cramped with 'pins and needles'. He tried to swallow the metallic taste from his mouth but his tongue was dry and leathery. What he needed was some water.

'Scream' paced back and forth obviously trying to decide what his next move ought to be. The tension was getting to 'Skull' and his nervousness was beginning to show in his demeanour.

One of the other female members of staff had begun to cry. She had obviously not been long out of college and their situation had panicked her. Her sobs were beginning to escalate as she picked up on 'Skull's' nervousness; each feeding off the other's heightened emotions.

"Charlotte," Tim whispered. "S-see if you can try to calm her down?"

"What about you?" she asked.

"I'll be fine. But, if the one in the skeleton mask gets any more agitated…"

"I'll see what I can do," Charlotte promised. She eased her way over to the terrified girl who was sat only a couple of feet away. "Hey Sam," she soothed as she placed her arm around her colleague's shoulder.

"I-I'm scared," Sam stammered. "Why don't they just let us go?"

"It's okay. No-one is going to hurt you, I promise."

"Hey," 'Skull' shouted. "What are you two up to?"

"She's frightened," Charlotte replied defensively. "You come in here waving guns at innocent people, it's no wonder we're all terrified!"

McGee sighed. The last thing he had wanted was a confrontation between armed gunmen and the hostages. 'Skull' moved closer to Charlotte, his weapon aimed directly at her chest.

"Wait!" commanded 'Scream'. "No-one gets hurt, no-one! At least not yet anyway…"

"Yeah, well she's mine," Skull indicated Charlotte with the muzzle of his rifle.

For McGee, the room had taken on a life of its own. People and furniture were becoming disproportionate in size and appearance. The venom coursing through his veins was now affecting the optic-neural pathways. His perceptions of time and sound too, were becoming distorted. The subtle whisperings of the hostages sounded like a cacophony of verbal white noise with no particular conversation more audible than the next.

"Water…" McGee rasped his voice dry and hoarse.

Charlotte heard his weak appeal and repeated the request. "Can we get some water? He's burning up!" she pleaded felling his forehead with the palm of her hand.

'Scream' looked back and forth from Charlotte to McGee before agreeing to their demand. "You go with her," he instructed 'Clown'. "If she tries anything, shoot her!"

Charlotte looked terrified, but she knew she had to do it. Slowly, she walked towards the staff room looking over her shoulder at McGee and the other hostages when she was about half way across the lobby floor. 'Clown' was only a few steps behind her. McGee nodded to her confidently which seemed to have the desired effect.

Inside the staff room 'Clown' moved closer to Charlotte, touching her upper arm with the muzzle of his rifle and running it provocatively downwards against her fair skin. She could feel his moist breath against her neck as he leaned in toward her. Charlotte shuddered, repulsed by his attention. Quickly, she loaded a tray with the items she required, all too eager to return to the safety of the group. 'Clown' just smirked beneath his mask, relishing in the power he had over her.

Within a couple of minutes of her leaving, Charlotte returned carrying the tray. She had brought a dozen bottles of water, a dessert bowl containing some ice from the refrigerator's ice compartment and a clean towel. She placed the tray on a nearby pedestal and took the towel, dish and a bottle of water to Tim.

"Here, drink some of this," she instructed as she held the opened bottle to his lips. Swallowing was proving difficult, but he did manage to drink some of the refreshingly cool liquid. Charlotte poured a small amount into the dish over the ice and dipped the towel in before wiping Tim's brow. It felt good. Tim closed his eyes. The iced water was a pleasant respite against his burning skin.

Chapter 3

Gibbs and Ziva were going over the Procter house looking for leads and the missing splinter when Abby called. "What have you got for me, Abs?" Gibbs asked expectantly.

"I ran the toxin through our poisons database and we have a winner!"

"A snake – we know."

"Ahh yes, but this is no ordinary snake. The venom must have been extracted manually by 'milking'. I used to date this guy who caught snakes in the wild. He used their venom to make the anti-venin for snake bite victims. Unfortunately, he died."

"He was bitten by a snake?"

"No. He crashed his car into a telegraph pole…"

"Abby!"

"Right, my point is, Megan Procter showed no signs of a snake bite."

"What snake did the venom come from?"

"I've narrowed it down to a member of the _viperidae_ family I just need to identify the species…"

"Keep working on it Abs. Any luck with the security video link?"

"We are receiving the transmission but there is a delay of about five seconds on real time."

"Good work. I'm on my way. We have the splinter." Gibbs shut his cell as he held the small wooden fragment up to the light inside the plastic evidence bag. His thoughts where a mixture of admiration and dismay that something so small could hold the key to someone's life or death. He prayed silently that it would be the former. "C'mon, there's nothing more we can do here," he called to Ziva.

"Gibbs, I found this hidden in her jewellery box." Ziva handed over a small letter. He read it quietly to himself, his expression changing to one of amused amazement the further he read. It was a love letter, and _not_ from her husband!

"Looks like Mrs Procter has been getting up close and personal with our Sergeant Brewster!" Gibbs exclaimed.

Again the telephone in the bank rang. 'Scream' left it to ring unanswered, still trying to decide his next best course of action. The ringing stopped for a brief moment only to resume once again. This time he answered.

"This is Lieutenant Gordon. Look we want this situation to be resolved without anyone getting hurt; so tell me, what is it that you want?"

'Scream' listened to the lieutenant for a moment before announcing his demands. "We want a car to take us to the airport where a private jet will fuelled and waiting to fly us to Mexico. We also want $2 million, in cash, ready loaded on the plane. If our demands are met within the next two hours, I will release all but three of the hostages."

"Your demands will be met, but as a gesture of goodwill we want you to release a hostage – now…"

'Scream' looked at the terrified faces lined up along the east wall. "Agreed. I shall send one hostage out now, but, if you try anything I will kill them all!"

Gordon contacted all of his men and informed them that a hostage was about to be released, and to 'hold their fire'. Each of the hostages bore an expression that yelled 'pick me', but 'Scream' had already made his decision. He walked over and grabbed Sam by the elbow; she was getting out of there. The terrified young bank clerk had lost all co-ordination in her legs as 'Scream' pulled her toward the main door. Tentatively she exited the bank surrounded by guns. The robbers had weapons trained on her back whilst the police had guns aimed at her from the front. By the time Sam reached the safety and security of a waiting ambulance she had gone into a disassociative state of shock, unable to give the detectives any information about the bank or the suspects involved in the siege.

Back at NCIS headquarters, Gibbs and Ziva entered forensics to witness Abby lying on the floor alongside her computer monitors. "Abby…" Gibbs gasped, rushing to her side, worried that she had succumbed to some sort of accident.

Abby sat up and looked into her friends' worried eyes. "Ohh Gibbs, that is so sweet. You need to show your inner love more often."

"What are you doing?" he demanded returning to his more accustomed hard-lined self.

"I was just attaching a digital protocol transducer to the video feed."

"Ohh," Gibbs replied as if he knew what she was talking about.

"With a bit of luck, and of course an incredible knowledge of computer wizardry," she keyed in a few coded algorithms, "we should now have the bank security footage in real time!"

"Good work Abby," Gibbs congratulated, although the footage was not something to celebrate. The four-way split screen showed Gibbs, Ziva and Abby exactly what was going on in the bank from four different perspectives and angles as it happened. Camera one was positioned directly in front of the main bank entrance. Gibbs could see Lieutenant Gordon standing next to a Metro PD squad car talking to a group of uniformed constables; Camera two caught the robber wearing the skeletal mask pace back and forth along the front of the cashier's tills. He was clearly agitated and this worried Gibbs immensely. Camera three identified the majority of the hostages lined up against the east wall. McGee was slumped over to his left and looked quite ill, even from the poor quality footage. A heavily armed man dressed in black from head to toe and a scary mask loomed into view. It was 'Scream', the one who'd spoken to Gordon earlier. Lastly, camera four displayed an empty portion of the lobby and the customer services desks. As they watched, a third armed man entered the frame. He wore a goofy clown's mask and was evidently nosey. He rummaged through the desk drawers and rifled amongst Charlotte's possessions emptying her purse over her desk.

"Oh my god," gasped Abby as she saw her sickened friend.

"It's alright Abs, we'll get him back – I'll get him back. Do we know what the poison is yet?"

"I did find out that the splinter that stuck McGee was saturated in venom. Now, I don't think our snake was chewing on a toothpick…"

"It was put there deliberately…"

"Correct, o'wise one! My baby is still cross checking the venom database…" At that moment her computer monitor flashed up a positive match. "Coral snake!" Abby announced. "I'll get the hospital to have the anti-venin waiting on standby."

"Don't go putting the vehicle before the horse!" Ziva interrupted Abby's enthusiasm. "First we have got to get McGee and everyone else out of there – alive…" she reminded them.

No-one bothered to correct Ziva on her poor proverb reference; they just stared at the plasma screen displaying the current situation within the bank.

"Uh-oh," Abby declared as she finished explaining the situation to the doctor in charge of the ER at Bethesda Naval Hospital, Maryland.

"Abby, I've told you before, I don't want any 'uh-oh's'," Gibbs chastised.

"The 'uh-oh' is because the hospital doesn't carry the anti-venin. It's got to be flown in from out of state."

"How long?"

"Four hours," she answered meekly. "Make it three," Abby answered herself in a gruff Gibbs-like voice.

Gibbs cocked his head and smiled at Abby's impersonation of himself. "Hey, I was going to say 'make it two!' I'll meet the plane at he airport." Gibbs called back over his shoulder before dialling Dinozzo on his cell. "What's Gordon up to, Tony?" he asked.

Tony covered the mouthpiece with a cupped hand so as not to alert the officers surrounding him of the conversation in which he was now engaging. "Boss, I think Gordon is about to storm the place. He's got S.W.A.T. snipers positioned around the bank and he's now briefing a hostage response team. He's treating this whole thing like an invasion into a hostile country, and he doesn't seem to care who gets in his way."

"Get Abby to send you a video feed of the bank's security cameras. Maybe, we can find a way to prevent this turning into a bloodbath," instructed Gibbs as he floored the accelerator.

"Okay boss. How's McGee doing?" Tony asked, his voice laden with concern.

"He's holding up." Gibbs snapped shut his cell. He needed to get McGee out of there and soon or there would be no point in getting any anti-venom at all if Gordon was to get his way.

A labyrinth of arterial roads coursed through the city, each pulsating with the throng of rush hour traffic. Tail lights and headlights of the slow moving vehicles mimicked the red and white blood cells that were carrying the deadly toxin threatening McGee's life. Gibbs needed to get to the bank, and the only way he was going to get there in time would be to bypass the clotted streets in favour of one of his _infamous_ shortcuts! Grit spat at his windshield and dust clouds hung like early morning mist in the cool evening air in his wake as Gibbs careened along the seldom used track that edged some redundant farmland. His cell rang. "Gibbs," he answered abruptly.

"Boss, something's going down. I think Gordon is about to storm the building! Boss…boss?" Tony repeated but Gibbs had hung up on his senior field agent and stomped harder on the gas pedal. He'd be at the bank in less than two minutes.

The Stratus left a six foot skid mark as Gibbs slammed on the brakes. His federal badge getting him past the uniformed sentries that were specifically in place to prevent onlookers and media sensationalists exacerbating the already tense situation.

Tony handed Gibbs a police Kevlar jacket. "Good to see you boss."

"Where's Gordon?" Gibbs demanded.

"Inside the café, but I've not been able to get inside."

Gibbs looked at Tony who immediately felt like a child about to be punished by an overbearing teacher.

"It's okay Tony," Gibbs sympathised completely throwing the younger agent off guard. "I need to have a word with Lieutenant Gordon and _explain_ the situation to him."

"Er, boss…"

"It's okay. Go and check the video feed. Go on…"

Tony reluctantly left his boss to monitor the situation inside the bank.

Gibbs entered the café only to be met by two burley plain-clothes detectives barring his passage. Detective Gordon granted Gibbs access to what he termed 'Command Central'.

"What's going on?" Gibbs demanded. "You've got men ready to storm the building; I've got a seriously ill agent inside – my agent! Not to mention all the other civilians being held captive…"

"We've tried to negotiate with these terrorists…"

"They're not terrorists! They are just three bank robbers who have got in over their heads when their escape plan went south."

"Heavily armed bank robbers with automatic weapons; but how do you know there are only three?"

"What, did you think I'd go back to NCIS headquarters and twiddle my thumbs whilst you try and get all the hostages killed?" Gibbs asked sarcastically. "I want that attack on the bank cancelled before innocent lives are lost in the cross-fire, or so help me god, I'll kill you myself!"

Gibbs' threat made Gordon swallow hard. He could see the former marine had meant every word, but he was not about to lose face and back down now.

On exiting the café, Gibbs located Tony and whispered his plan to him. The two NCIS agents were heavily outnumbered, outgunned and out on a limb, but they had to try something and soon.

Tony pulled back the slide on his sidearm and pocketed two extra clips. Gibbs checked his weapons, including his back-up and reholstered it at his ankle. He loaded the first bullet into the chamber by pulling the slide back and releasing it again with a swift fluid movement.

"Remember Tony; rule 46 – 'If you go into a dangerous situation, make sure you come out alive!'"

"Yeah boss. That's always been my motto!"

"I'll come in from the west, you take the east. That way, we should be in their blind spot until the final five yards. Ziva is on the com-link and will supply us with up to the minute intel."

"What about Gordon?" Tony queried.

"He has his head so far up his ass that by the time he realises what's going on, the bank robbers will have been arrested, tried and convicted!"

"Ready when you are boss."

McGee's right arm was twitching uncontrollably and his breathing was becoming shallow and laboured. Charlotte held his other hand and spoke to him softly. "You said your younger sister was coming to visit. I lost my older sister nearly five years ago now. It's silly really, what you remember. We used to spend all our free time together going to clubs, shopping at the mall and even doubling up together with our dates! I remember when I was about eight or nine; we were picnicking in the park. I still recall the sun warming my body that April afternoon. Emma would spin me around on the roundabout and push me on the swings. On this day though, I hadn't got hold of the chains properly and mid-swing I fell. My skin had been stripped from my hands and knees and I was bleeding badly. Emma scooped me up, washed my wounds with a bottle of water left from our picnic and carefully bandaged my hands and knees with whatever she could find. I think she even used one of mom's best towels. Huh, mom never even batted an eyelid, even though we could see she was upset. Emma had wanted to be a doctor from then on."

"Wh-what happened?" Tim asked, the words proving difficult for him to speak.

"She was killed by a drunk driver. He was a 53 year old lawyer. That bastard got away with a suspended sentence, three year driving ban and a broken nose. My sister lost her life and we all lost a very special person and talented young doctor…" Charlotte's eyes brimmed with tears. Finally, the levy broke and a single rivulet flowed from each of her crystal blue eyes. McGee squeezed her hand. His lips moved but no audible sound came out. Charlotte dabbed his forehead once more with the damp towel. She noticed his lips were tinged with blue. Cyanosis was beginning to take effect as Tim's body was being starved of oxygen. Charlotte laid him flat to ease his breathing.

"Why doesn't someone do something?" asked another of the hostages. "We've been in here for hours now…"

"I'm sure everything possible is being done Mr Roberts," responded the manager of the bank as he noticed 'Clown' head in their direction. "Now calm down. We don't want to antagonise these people." Mr Roberts, although full of bravado, knew that he was no match for the dangerous end of an automatic weapon.

Suddenly, 'Clown' stopped. Something had caught his eye. He bent down and pulled out McGee's NCIS identification and weapon. "What have we got here?" he asked in an evil sadistic manner. "We've got ourselves a navy cop!"

'Scream' moved closer and studied the find with interest. His eyes scanned all the faces before him, coming to rest on McGee. 'Clown' stood over McGee his gun only a few inches from Tim's chest. "Don't s'pose they'll give us much for this one, he's nearly dead already!"

"Leave him alone!" Charlotte cried defiantly. She moved herself between Tim and 'Clown's' gun.

Ziva watched from the forensics lab at what was unfurling inside the bank. Abby was almost beside herself with fear and worry as they watched 'Clown' aim his rifle at McGee's prone figure.

"Hold on!" instructed Ziva. Gibbs and Tony waited patiently outside, each watching the other for any sign that their rescue operation was about to backfire.

Gibbs noticed a flurry of movement near Gordon's command post. If things didn't move soon, both of them would be caught in the middle of a fire-fight.

"Ziva, what's going on?" Gibbs whispered with some urgency.

She paused a moment as she waited for 'Clown' to move away from McGee and the woman with him. "Alright, the 'skull' is stood at the first cashiers till; 'Scream' is at your 10 o'clock moving toward the main entrance and 'Clown' is on the far east side next to the hostages. You can go on my mark…3…2…1…mark!"

Gibbs fired the first shot through the bank's glass doors hitting 'Scream' squarely in the chest, his lifeless body falling to the floor in a crumpled heap. Tony took down 'Skull' with two shots to the upper left quadrant of his body. Neither victim had had time to fire a single round. 'Clown', however, was a different matter. As Dinozzo's and Gibbs' bullets hit their mark, 'Clown' had squeezed his trigger. Half a dozen bullets arced around the bank as 'Clown' spun around to return fire. One had struck Charlotte. She lay across McGee, her blood dripping from her wounded leg onto the white polished stone floor. Both Gibbs and Dinozzo fired simultaneously, bringing down their last target. The situation now neutralised. Gibbs checked McGee's condition whilst Dinozzo ensured the armed robbers were no longer a threat. Gordon, followed by his men, burst through the door spouting nonsense about his case, his authority and something about a 'bone-headed suicidal mission' when Gibbs stopped him mid-flow.

"Get me an ambulance and I want a police escort! Now!" Gordon took one look at McGee and instructed his men to comply. Gibbs applied a pressure bandage to Charlotte's leg, her face contorted from the pain, but her concern was not for herself, only for Tim.

"Is he okay?" she asked.

"I hope so…"

McGee was rushed straight up to intensive care, where he received the much needed anti-venin. The ICU doctor approached Gibbs and Dinozzo, who were waiting patiently in the hall. "Agent McGee has slipped into a coma. It's going to be touch and go over the next few hours. He's been given five phials of the anti-venom; all we can do now is wait. If his symptoms persist…"

Gibbs slammed his fist into the wall then strode purposefully to the exit. "Thanks doc," Tony acknowledged patting the doctor on the arm, and quickly chased after his boss.

Ziva was going over the case notes when Gibbs and Dinozzo returned to the office. "How is McGee?" she asked.

"Not good," Tony answered.

"Where are we with this murder?" Gibbs enquired, a hint of anger and frustration evident in his tone.

Ziva collected up her notepad and related her findings. "The letters were definitely sent by Sergeant Scott Brewster. The signature and handwriting have been verified as belonging to him. Abby was also able to lift three sets of prints from the letters. The first belong to Sergeant Brewster; the second to Megan Procter. The third, however, was only a partial but we have identified it as belonging to Kathleen Brewster! There's something else…she is licensed to keep dangerous animals – including venomous snakes, since she graduated from veterinary school."

"Why am I only hearing about this now? I want her in here for questioning!" Gibbs demanded. "And get me a warrant to search their address."

Chapter 4

Tony and Ziva studied Mrs Brewster through the one-way glass of the interrogation room whilst they waited for Gibbs. He entered the stark uninviting room with a cup of coffee house strong, dark Columbian in one hand and a manila file in the other. He closed the door and sat opposite Mrs Brewster, the file hitting the table with a considerable 'thwack', causing his suspect to flinch.

"I need you to go over your statement once more Mrs Brewster."

"Why? What's going on? Why am I here?" she flustered.

"We just need to go over some of the details again."

"I told you, Megan and I had arranged to go shopping. She was supposed to come round around 10am. When she didn't show, I tried ringing her, but she didn't answer her phone either. That was when I began to get _really_ worried, so I decided to call round her house. That was when I found her-her body," she sniffed back her growing emotion "and I called the base police."

"You have a licence to keep dangerous animals?"

"Yes, but I haven't practiced animal welfare in nearly three years. Not since Scott and I moved onto the base. We were trying to start a family you see, and the doctors explained that the shots required working with the exotic reptiles together with the possibility of contracting salmonella and it being passed onto the baby were just too steep. You see, I lost our first child two and a half years ago now. Scott, I mean we, decided that it would be best if I gave up my career to concentrate on us having a family."

Gibbs conceded and left the room a little remorseful for having put her through the grief of losing a child again. He knew how that felt having lost his only daughter to a vengeful sniper nearly twenty years ago. The pain still a vivid memory just tucked away in a corner of his mind so as not to distract him from his job but not so far that it was forgotten completely.

The two houses involved sat dark and quiet against the otherwise well lit neighbourhood. Gibbs, Tony and Ziva entered Brewster the property and were about to begin their search when they heard a sound. Instantly, all three agents drew their weapons and took a defensive stance. Tony rejoined Gibbs and Ziva in the front room from the direction of the bedroom. Gibbs indicated that the sound came from the kitchen. Cautiously, they edged forward, uncertain of what or whom they were about to encounter. Gibbs checked his team were in position before he kicked open the door. "NCIS!" he called out. The lone occupant in the kitchen dropped the jar he was holding, allowing it to smash on the stone tiled floor. The shocked man was completely dumbfounded by the sudden appearance of three armed agents invading his kitchen. "What the hell? What are you doing in my house?"

"Special Agents Gibbs, Dinozzo and David, we have a warrant to search this property. Sergeant Brewster?"

"Yes, but…A warrant? Why? What do you think you'll find, sir?"

"The weapon that killed Megan Procter, sergeant. Now, if you'd go with Special Agent Dinozzo…"

Scott Brewster reluctantly left the kitchen with Tony and was placed into the custody of a marine guard.

"What do you think he was doing here?" Ziva queried. "There doesn't appear to be any male influence in this house what-so-ever," she noted.

"You're right. Check the bedrooms," Gibbs instructed.

Minutes later, Ziva returned. "I've gone through the closets and the cupboards; Scott Brewster has not been living here for some time."

"So why was he here?" Gibbs wondered. "I want samples of all the food in this place… And make sure you take care not to stick yourself with anything…" Gibbs flipped open his cell and rang Abby. "Abs. I want you to run a check for me…find out if Scott Brewster has any other property in the area. He has been living at another address and I want to know where!"

Abby tapped away at her keyboard feverishly. The result was almost instantaneous, "355 Montana Boulevard, apartment 2B."

The search of the Brewster residence proved fruitless in their case against Kathleen Brewster. Gibbs was becoming increasingly frustrated with each dead end that their investigation produced. He lifted his cell out of his pocket and dialled a series of numbers. "East wing ICU…I'd like to enquire about the condition of one of your patients – Special Agent Timothy McGee…" Gibbs paused as he listened to the nurse on the other end tell him that patient information could not be released over the telephone. "Let me speak to Dr Caplin." Gibbs held on as he waited for the doctor to pick up his call. Tony and Ziva looked on expectantly. "Dr Caplin? Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, how's my agent doing?" The seriousness on Gibbs' face remained unchanged as he listened in silence to the doctor's update on McGee's condition. Finally, Gibbs thanked the doctor for his time and snapped shut his phone. Tony and Ziva waited on tenter-hooks for Gibbs to fill them in. "He's still unconscious, but it looks like the antidote is working!" All three allowed themselves an emotional sigh of relief before returning to the task at hand – the missing snake venom. Gibbs instructed the marine guard to bring Sergeant Brewster back into the property and invited his suspect to sit in the dining room across the table from himself.

"We apologise for the inconvenience tonight sergeant, but we are investigating a murder. How long have you lived here?"

"Three years."

"Any problems, arguments with neighbours, problems at work?"

"No, everything was fine; or as fine as any marriage could be when one partner is absent for six months at a time."

"Is that why you moved out?"

"What?"

"Is that why you moved 'off base'?" Gibbs repeated.

"I live here." Brewster protested.

"Then where are your clothes, your personal effects?"

Brewster fidgeted uncomfortably at Gibbs' line of questioning. "Kath and I have been going through a bit of a rough patch. We decided that it would be best if we each had some space."

"Is that before, or after, your affair with Megan Procter?" Brewster looked down at his interlaced fingers nervously twitching against the highly polished surface of the mahogany dining table. He was clearly uncomfortable with Gibbs' line of questioning. "Did your wife know you were sleeping with her best friend?"

Brewster gulped. He knew there was no point in lying any further. "Yes, Megan told Kath she was pregnant and that the child was mine. Kath went bizerk. She shredded all my clothes and destroyed most of my belongings. That was when I moved out."

Gibbs smiled inwardly. He now had probable cause to get a warrant to search Scott Brewster's apartment.

The two roomsof the second storey apartment were spartan. They were only furnished with a single bed in the bedroom and a thread bear easy chair facing the only window in the main room. A small mismatched wooden table and chair stood in the corner, still cluttered with a takeaway pizza box and half eaten pepperoni with extra cheese and mushroom. The area that posed as the kitchen faired little better than the rest of the apartment in design and styling. The refrigerator bore a six-pack, a couple of microwavable TV dinners and a container of green mould that could have once been loosely described as food. The uncarpeted floor echoed to the team's footsteps as they searched the baron living area. As Tony rounded the easy-chair his foot caused one of the floorboards to creak unnaturally. The sound caught everyone's attention. Tony bent down, his knife open, the blade sandwiched between two oak floorboards. Gibbs and Ziva stood looking over his shoulder as he prised the steel lever upward. The wood offered little resistance. Ziva shone her penlight into the dark void as Tony proceeded to lift three more of the adjacent boards. What they saw was the evidence they had been after. A small vivarium sat redundant yet obviously recently used. Inside the glass habitat the special agents could see a partially coiled body of an orange, black and yellow banded snake. For an instant, no-one moved. Slowly, Ziva edged backwards away from the danger filled fissure and into the kitchen area. She rummaged through the cutlery drawers looking for something, anything that would help them capture the snake.

"Hey Ziva!" Tony suppressed the urge to shout at her for making so much noise. "How about you invite the big brass band? 'Cause I'm sure they couldn't make much more noise!"

"Got something!" she declared trying to look both triumphant and apologetic.

"What's that?" Gibbs asked eyeing the unusual utensil.

"Tongs." She handed the tongs to Gibbs who in turn offered them to Dinozzo.

"What's the matter boss? I thought you weren't afraid of sna…" Tony paused as he realised what he had said and began to backtrack quickly. "I didn't mean that you _were_ afraid of snakes, it's just that…" Again Tony stopped mid-sentence. This time although was due to the swift flick to the back of his head where Gibbs had enlightened him to the benefits of stopping talking whist you are behind. Tony grasped the tongs and gingerly moved closer to the deadly reptile. The snake made no effort to strike or get away as Tony manoeuvred the metal clasp around its body. As he extracted the viper all three agents exhaled in relief – the snake was dead. Its remains were placed into an evidence jar and sealed.

On further examination, the void beneath the floor provided further damning evidence including a make-shift milking vial made from a jar with a balloon stretched across the rim. Two puncture holes were visible in the rubber lid and venom residue lined the interior. A small amount of dried blood was also visible along the side of the rim. "Someone was injured!" Tony noted.

Finally Ziva found a pair of surgical gloves. Now, it was up to Abby…

"Hey Gibbs," greeted Abby jovially. "I have just had a forensic party with the smorgasbord of delights you brought over from the Brewster residence and, apart from serious cholesterol issues, the food is normal."

Gibbs handed his favourite lab tech a large 'Caf-Pow!' before asking her his next request. "If you're not too pooped, we have got some more evidence that requires your expertise…"

"Oh Gibbs," she cried in delight. "You're like my little grey haired Santa…" He stared at her curiously before she clarified her comparison, "minus the red suit and white beard, of course!"

"What about the roly-poly belly?" asked Gibbs somewhat offended.

"Oh no," Abby replied. "Tony has that covered…" Tony was mildly offended by Abby's last remark and immediately sucked in his stomach eyeing his reflection in the glass partition in Abby's lab.

"You'd best go get a coffee whilst I run some tests on this new evidence," she recommended.

An hour later, they returned. Abby was stood at her computer. "Where have you been? I thought you were only popping to the coffee machine not going to hand pick the beans in South America…" she exploded with excitement. "The venom in the vial is a positive match to the toxins that killed Megan Procter and almost killed McGee!"

"So it was a Coral Snake. Then who put the venom onto the splinters?" Gibbs asked.

"It was Scott Brewster, boss." Tony surmised. "He had the means, motive and opportunity."

"Rule number 6…" Abby reminded the team.

"Never let a Probie drive?" Ziva asked, confused.

"Never assume anything – check the evidence! The latex gloves had a full set of fingerprints; I compared them to our suspects and…" Abby flashed the results onto the plasma screen. The results surprised everyone.

Upstairs in interrogation Gibbs released both Mr and Mrs Brewster without charge. "It appears Megan Procter was to blame for her own death. She had attempted to milk the snake, but in the process, the snake had invenomated her. She must have then killed it and planted the evidence in your apartment when she found out she was pregnant."

"So she killed herself?" Kathleen asked incredulously.

"Actually, I believe that you were to be her target Mrs Brewster and your husband was going to be framed as the killer."

Epilogue

McGee's eyes flickered open, his vision blurred. The bright strip lighting of the hospital ward a harsh contrast to the darkness of his coma. A figure was sat in the hospital chair next to his bed asleep and covered with a white aertex blanket. Slowly, as his eyes adjusted, he recognised the woman next to him, it was Charlotte Read. He owed her his life. She had sat at his bedside since the raid on the bank, only leaving to receive treatment to her own wound but returning immediately after. Charlotte stirred as if intuitive of McGee's return to consciousness. "Hey stranger," she greeted. "How are you feeling? You really had us worried for a time there…"

"You stayed with me?" McGee's voice rasped from his dry throat.

"I just wanted to make sure you were going to be alright." Charlotte rose from the chair and McGee noticed her own injury.

"What happened to you?"

"A stray bullet found my leg, but I'll be fine." Charlotte hobbled her way to the door on crutches when McGee called out to her.

"Charlotte, would you consider going out for dinner when I get out of here?"

"I thought you'd never ask; only it will have to be for three…"

"You have a boyfriend?" McGee looked down-hearted.

"Nope," she teased. "You have a little sister!" In the doorway stood McGee's younger sister holding a bunch of Gerberas and wearing a smile that showed her orthodontal scaffolding.

McGee smiled. "Deal!"

The End

By Holstered .38

14th October, 2006.

26


End file.
